Most of the time I think I am a nice person. I smile at strangers, I always break for small animals and I give my seat up on the subway to anyone pregnant or older than I. Knowing myself the bitter taste of sadness, even the thought of anyone else feeling weighted down with a heavy heart pains me desperately. The result is that I am really good to people. Even when they don’t deserve it.

There are times, though, when I feel an overwhelming need to punch someone in the face. The target could be anyone, really, but most often it is my husband, Stephen, for having committed the mortal sin of being nearest to me. Thankfully, these violent urges follow a predictable pattern and happen, approximately, every twenty-eight days. On day twenty-one I just feel a dull sense of discomfort come on, but over the course of a week it progresses into a growing agitation with the world at large, until it finally tips into a full-blown rage that has me sympathizing with Stephen King’s Carrie.

Being able to calculate these outlying periods of heightened agitation should allow me to prepare for them, except I never do. Every month, as my sprightly spirit dissolves into infuriation with Stephen for having eaten the last chocolate chip cookie(!!!), I am taken by surprise, worrying that I have undergone some kind of permanent mood transplantation.

What in the world has brought on this ill-temper? I’ll think, Did something I ate irrevocably change my personality?

Then, in the bathroom, I’ll remember. Oh. Right.

This past month, however, I decided to take strategic, premeditated steps, to douse water on the fireworks before their explosion. I warned Stephen of the potential combustion of my sanity in the near future.

I was pleased to have taken such precautionary measures and rewarded myself with a bag of chips and a chocolate bar. It is so easy to become complacent in marriage, to remain stagnant, at the mercy of routine, but clearly I was growing as a person and a wife. Instead of accepting our monthly sparks as a given, I was pre-empting them. I took a seat on the couch beside Stephen, basking in our ability to communicate and work through any marital tension.

“You know,” he said, “I actually just read this study about pre-menstrual syndrome.”

He did!? How sweet is that!? I was so touched that he was taking such a keen interest in my body.

He went on: “it said PMS is not actually a real thing.”

I swallowed a handful of barbeque chips so I could clench my fists. “-Come again?”

“Yeah, these researchers think that PMS is kind of psychosomatic. Like, women act crazy once a month because they think they’re supposed to act crazy once a month. It’s more just societal pressure to meet a cultural norm.”

“Society is pressuring me to ‘act crazy?'” my voice started to rise as I stood up over him, “how exactly would you say I act crazy!?”

His words were like lethal doses of gamma radiation. My pulse began to race. I could feel my hulking muscles begin to grow, threatening to burst through my button-down. He started to answer but I couldn’t hear him over Flight of the Valkyries that had begun to play in the background.

Period-related behaviour, to me, is like racially charged words that only people of that race are allowed to use. I can say I’m getting my period, warn Stephen that I’m feeling crazy as a result, but for him to even suggest that I have PMS, that my actions are impacted by it, psychosomatically or not, is treasonous.

“Not really crazy,” he backtracked, “More like emotional. Women use their periods as an excuse to get emotional.”

“Emotional!?” I said, “I don’t use my period as an excuse to get emotional! What I get is fat! And breakouts! And cramps! Both stomach and back. And headaches! And bad hair! And do you know why I get these things every single month? Do you?” I felt tears rising up, “I get them so that,” sniff, “maybe one day,” sniff, sniff, “biologically, I can have god-damn your baby! And you don’t even care!”

“Do you even love me!?” I wailed.

Seeing the look of confused distress on his face, I began to wonder if perhaps there was merit to what he had said. I would never admit this to him, but he did make me think: do we subconsciously assume certain gender roles because we think we are supposed to?

I am a modern woman, independent and career-driven. I thought Stephen and I had transcended classical gendered roles in our modern marriage. Working just as hard as Stephen, I would be furious if he were to ever suggest that it was my job as a wife to cook dinner, being that the kitchen has historically been a woman’s domain. I would splay him with my feminist pitchfork, accuse of him of the worst kind of chauvinism. And yet, don’t I think it is his job to take out the garbage? Anything you can do, I can do better, I tell myself, but come Tuesday night, I expect him to haul the heavy, stinky garbage to the curb, just like my father used to. I felt sheepish in the face of my hypocrisy.

Do I, in fact, assume the role of a cranky, pre-menstrual woman in the same way I assume that it is his responsibility to take out the garbage? I wasn’t sure. What I did know was that I felt crappy. I looked over at Stephen, sitting there on the couch with his hands behind his head and his legs stretched out on the coffee table in front of him. He looked so comfortable. I wasn’t comfortable at all. I was bloated and crampy. I was tired and lethargic. My joints ached a lot and my boobs were really tender. If I have to feel that way once a month, if every twenty-eight days I have to feel irritable, peeved and uncomfortable, and he doesn’t, than at the very least he can take out the garbage! I shouldn’t have to do both.

18 Comments

Here Here! I think this is terrific. The very least one can do every 28 days is take out the trash. Absolutely. It’s sort of like the argument “Do you think we choose to be gay?” Well, do you think we’d choose to have blood exit us once a month? OK, now I’m feeling a little bout of irrational insanity coming on! Thanks for the laugh!

Haha! You are so right Annie-I, for one, would definitely not choose such an exit strategy. I think you are both rational and sane. It is my husband who is not. And if he keeps up it talking like this, I might have to take him out to the curb too!!

In my case it’s not so much that he are the last cookie, but that he has just did something to item me to the point that I want to R
Wring his neck. For example tonight we had issues with the turkey, as I say cutting a piece off it fell apart, due to being horribly overcooked by our old oven that is on its last leg. So like I said the turkey is overcooked and my husband is walking around moping like a child. When I tell him to be happy he ignores me. And continues to mope… I carve the turkey and a piece almost falls on the floor I catch it immediately and quickly apologize. But he won’t let it drop. “why are you cutting it that way, you don’t know what you are doing, why are you holding it that way, you almost dropped it, why do you think you decided to cut it that way?”

Yes, he does that often.. Nit picking and always “asks” me why I think I “did it wrong” like I’m a 3 year old or something… So while he was saying this I was just stareing at him fantasizing about stabbing him with the knife. I tell him to leave me one… But he still continues to pick away at me. I finally scream at him to leave me alone and then He has the gull to act like I was the one in the wrong for yelling at him… God, I hate him more often then I love him….

You’re breaking my heart, Shapiro! But I do appreciate the support and will pass the message along to Steve (who told me that he was, and I quote, “just trying to educate me” when I got angry!). He’ll take it much more seriously coming from you.

Love it! I haven’t had my period in like 3 year (I have a lot of kids…), but I think (as far as I can remember) the worst thing ever that anyone could do is ask me if its that time of the month. Like they are looking for a reason as per why I am acting like a crazy person. So annoying. That’s just me ok? Im crazy! Let it go already.
Sorry… thanx for letting me vent. xo
ps – check this out http://toronto.ctv.ca/consumer/#TopVideoAn – there’s one about dry cleaners … send them your blog post 🙂

I realize that my questions/comments from this lil story is kind of long and lot to read but if u would be so kind to take the time to read it, i would greatly appreciate any input u may hav or any comments or answers that u would hav to help me better understand y im havin these terrible thoughts. So i jus wanted to share my story because the story at the top of this page especially that very first paragraph is almost exactly describing myself and how i view myself as a very caring person and how i always tend to put other people’s needs, feelings, concerns, or any type of problems they may be havin and i try my very best to b a good friend by listening to them and giving them good advice and the main thing is to just try and make them feel better. Also when i see a friend or family member n any pain whether its physical pain or a broken heart then my heart goes out to them cause i cant stand seeing anyone n any type of pain! So altogether i really am a very good person. Except for when all sudden i have these awful, terrible thoughts of just wanting to punch someone right n their face! Most the time i get those thoughts when someone is just simply talking to me face to face and this person could b the most nicest, kindest, and caring person ever but i still will all sudden get these thoughts about wantin to hit them in their face and my main questions i think of is: What would happen right after i was to hit them? What would they say or how would they react towards me directly after i just got done hitting them hard as i could right in their face and would they ever be able to really forgive me and could they ever trust being around me again? Im just so very, very confused y i would ever have these horrible thoughts of hitting someone in their face when i swear i honestly feel bad if i ever had to or accidently killed a bug! Lol! I know for a fact i would never actually follow through with the idea and i wouldnt and couldnt actually hit someone but its only in my thoughts. Ive seen some answers to my similar question and they mainly say it could be stress or depression. Everyone has a lil stress but my stress levels are fine and im not suffering from depression so therefore i would really like to be able to receive any other reasons or answers as to why a pretty normal, very caring, super nice, generally healthy 30 yr old woman that has the most smartest and most wonderful 9 yr old son thats so well-behaved and so with all these really good things in my life its just driving me crazy to not know y n the world i hav such awful, terrible thoughts that jus all a sudden make me think about what would really happen if right then and right there if i all sudden hit someone right in their face?? Its awful and very embarrassing the type of thoughts ive been having. But at least there is one good thing that i know for sure without a single doubt is that i couldnt never ever actually just hit someone in face for no reason what so ever!! Just cause the idea of it does sometimes pass through my mind at times doesnt mean ill ever actually act on it! So its a very good thing they are ONLY thoughts!

OMG LIKE I LIKE I CANT EVENNNNN!!! I AM LIKE SO DONE RN IM DEAD!!! KNEEKOLIT YOU ARE SO RIGHT… LIKE THERE WAS LIKE THIS ONE TIME WHEN A TOOLBOX FELL ON MY HEAD AND IT DIDNT EVEN HIT ME AND LIKE I STARTED CRYING AND NOBODY FELT SORRY FOR ME SO I JUST LIKE LIKE SO WANTED TO PUNCH SOMEONE IN THE FACE LIKE O M G D:<

hahaha I love this page. Every 28 days or so, for a period (no pun intended) of a few days, I really want to punch people in the face. Googling for menstruation and punching people in the face was how I found this site in the first place. I can completely relate to Sadinthecity, who wrote the article, and to Khristal Spudly who said, “jus all a sudden make me think about what would really happen if right then and right there if i all sudden hit someone right in their face??” That is sooooo me. I realize those feelings only last a few days and I’d never actually punch someone unless it was to defend myself or someone else, but the thoughts arrive and stick around for a few days every single month. I just hope I don’t have those feelings whenever I hear someone saying that women fabricate their symptoms. I don’t want to go to jail. lol

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